Grazie, Azzurri
by Fekete
Summary: The taste of winning is delicious, however, when you lose it turns bitter. "Even if we lose, fucking dammit I swear I'll kill the bastard, we're gonna send them off with a smile, dammit. You got it? No tears or else I'm gonna punch you". Euro 2012 final, Spamano. In which Lovino gets too many dangerous looking friends.


**Fandom**: Axis Powers Hetalia

**Pairing**: Spamano

**Warnings**: BL, boy x boy, swearing, Euro 2012 references

**Disclaimer**: I do **not** own Hetalia, football players or Euro 2012, unfortunately. Otherwise, Spamano and Lovi-Mario friendship would be canon.

**A/N**: So, uh, again I'd like to dedicate this to **SoledaDeMisPesares**, because our little rants seriously make me the happiest ever :'D. Sorry it didn't take out too well **OTL**.

* * *

"_The greatest test of courage on Earth is to bear defeat without losing heart"_

Robert Green Ingersoll

**XxXxXxXxXx**

_**Kiev, 1st July 2012**_

Twenty-fourth and the last day of Euro 2012 had arrived. The time flew by so fast, everyone enjoying themselves and having fun. During the time they spent focused on football, everyone's felt so much. They made many precious memories, became closer friends with others, had fun, tasted the deliciousness of winning and bitterness of losing. Nations who were close to each other had to fight against one another, the enemies facing as well. The will of losing teams had been unspokenly passed down on the two teams that were to fight together.

One of them, most of the people were sure would pass. Strong, defending, cheerful la Roja. All of the Spaniards at their best, guided towards victory by Vicente del Bosque. In today's match, the people's who's already shone in previous matches would show yet another great performance. David Silva, young attacking midfielder who's charmed many people with his smile. Cesc Fàbregas, a very reliable midfielder with bright smile. Other midfielder, Xabi Alonso, whose plays very amazing. Sergio Ramos, who during penalty kicks against Portugal scored in Panenka-style. Gerard Piqué, a player from Barcelona. Fernando Torres, a very strong player that was sure to come on the field later in the match. And many others incredible players, who were led by their captain, Iker Casillas. The goalkeeper, cheerful in nature and full of respect for every team he's faced, was probably everyone's biggest and scariest enemy.

The other team that no one believed would make it that far. Azzurri. Italian national football team that's made their way to the finals through hard work, sweat, blood and tears. Tying with Spain and Croatia, winning against Ireland, defeating England in penalty kicks, burying Germany's dreams of the finals, here they were, ready to face their very first opponent for the second time. Andrea Pirlo, a man whose name was known by many, who had had put a lot of pressure on his opponents. Antonio Cassano, a player from Milan. Antonio Di Natale, who's scored the very first goal for Italy against Spain in their first match. Alessandro Diamanti, the one who's scored the fourth penalty kick against England. Mario Balotelli, one of the most surprising players, unpredictable and amusing player from Manchester. And just like in Spanish team, the one who's led Azzurri this far, with assistance from the coach Cesare Prandelli, Gianluigi Buffon. The goalkeeper, whose won the hearts of many with the way he sang the anthem.

These two teams, Azzurri and la Roja had faced before, on the 10th of June, their game ending with a tie, 1:1. And here they were again, ready to fight with each other yet again, neither team wanting to disappoint their respective country.

**XxXxXxX**

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo – or just Spain – was known as a very friendly country with lots of friends. However he was up against Italy, who, not so surprisingly, had a lot of friends too. On the bench of nations that 'were rooting for Spain' was only France. On the bench

'rooting for both teams/we don't care bench' were Belgium, Greece, Hungary, Prussia, Austria, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Nordics without Norway, The Baltics, Monaco, Ireland, Scotland, N. Ireland, Wales and a few others. Now let's take a look at Italy's bench.

South Italy, North Italy and Seborga had actually a hell lot of friends. Near the eldest Vargas brother sat Russia, England, Norway and Romania. Next to Russia was Belarus and Ukraine, who was sitting on Seborga's right. On boy's left was Sealand. Bulgaria was somewhere near Romania. Feliciano clung to Germany tightly, smiling happily and chatting with Poland. Netherlands sat there, scowling and ignoring everyone. He was probably there to piss Spain off. And he got along with Romano quite well too. And finally Turkey. No one had any idea why exactly was he there, but he just was.

"When did Lovi get so many dangerous looking friends? Tell me! Where did I go wrong as a lover? WHERE?" Antonio shook his friend with teary eyes, looking at least heartbroken. Francis didn't have heart to tell the poor Spaniard that Lovino's and Ivan's friendship had been going on for quite a long time already. The two were friends even before World War II. Or take England, for example. The two had been making fun of other people since early 1910s!

"Nowhere, mon ami. Is it so surprising that petit Italie has friends?" Truly, perhaps it was. Lovino was bad tempered and hard to deal with. The fact he and Arthur had become friends wasn't so surprising – after all both liked insulting Francis! Elizaveta, Lili, Emma, Katyusha, Mei, Michelle, Emilie, they weren't so surprising either. They were females after all. However Ivan, Lars, Natalya, Kiku, Matthew, Alfred, Sadiq, Lukas, Dimitrie, José. Gilbert even! Those were just so random! Poor people must have lost their minds. Especially poor Mathieu.

"No. But I don't know when did it happen! I'm worried about him! What if they'll do something to him? What if Eyebrows tries to cook for him? What if that psicópata snaps? WHAT IF LOVI STOPS LOVING ME BECAUSE THEY ALL WILL BRAINWASH HIM?" Antonio's begun to shake the other male even more furiously now, France slowly getting green on his face.

"Du calme! Really, Antoine, stop worrying so much. I'm sure that-"

"And his players!" the Spaniard cut in, waving his hands frantically "They are way too close to mi Lovinito! Have you seen how friendly that Cassano and Di Natale and Buffon and ESPECIALLY that Balotelli are? Have you?" Francis was, one again, being shaken by his paranoid friend .

"Antoine, I think I'm getting sick" he mumbled, trying his best to pry the green colour off of his face.

"¿Qué? Oh. Lo siento" Antonio let go of him and sat down, sighing. There was still one more hour left. He'd die from waiting and worrying about his precious pequeño tomate.

"It's okay. Anyway, why yes, I've noticed. Petit Feli had told me that Lovino and Balotelli were rather close as well. You might not believe it, but according to cute Feliciano, your mignon amant got rather playful" when Frenchman's blue eyes met terrified green, he's understood how inappropriate that sentence sounded. He chuckled, only to be silenced by a frightening aura that's started to surrender his friend "Ah, I meant playful as in pulling pranks. These two, I've heard, are a serious nuisance to Prandelli. They humor the team quite so, however, and are liked by everyone. Romano is fitting there very well, from what I've heard. They've let him into their 'famille'" Francis ended, hoping that his long lecture had calmed his Spanish friend, at least a little. That's why he was surprised to see the other man pouting. He knew he'd regret it, but he asked anyway.

"What now, Antoine?"

"Lovi doesn't love me anymore, does he?" the tears came back to his pools of green, the sad face now turned straight towards Francis. The Frenchman felt like facepalming at his friend's bi-polar-ness. "D-do you think he'll at least let me visit Carmenita and Rosalita even though he doesn't love me anymore? O-oh no! Dios, no! ¿Qué tal si-! No! Loviii! Cómo pudiste? LOVINOOOO!" somewhere on the other side of the field, Italian boy stopped his conversation with Arthur and looked in Spain's direction. What was the idiot up to now?

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo! Calm. Down. Tell big brother France what happened, alright?" Antonio nodded childishly, still looking heartbroken. Really, he was like a big kid!

"What if Carmen and Rosa aren't my children? What if that awful England had an affair with mi Lovi and-" another heart wrenching sob escaped the Spaniard's lips. Francis was now confused. It was way too hard dealing with Spain when he was alone. Curse Prussia!

"What children are you talking about?" did his Spanish friend somehow manage to impregnate Romano and did the fiery Southern Italian secretly give birth to some mysterious Carmen and Rosa?

"They're mine and Lovi's childreeen!" France was about ready to faint. "Well, I mean, Lovi doesn't know that yet, but I'm going to propose and he'll say yes and we'll make love for two days and he'll get pregnant and he'll give birth to our cute twin girls, Carmen and Rosa and Carmen will look just like me but she'll have Lovi's eyes and his cute character and Rosa will be so cheerful and cute and she'll have my eyes and two years later maybe Lovi will give birth to a boy, who I think we should call Nico and he'll be really cute too and we'll live happily ever after eating tomatoes and-" Francis facepalmed. His friend's stupidity never ceased to amaze him.

**XxXxXxX**

Antonio, after confirming from Lovino that Carmen and Rosa where, in fact, his children - Francis mentally thanked the Italian for going along with Spaniard's stupid ideas – went back to his team. And with that, the last match of Euro 2012 had begun, the two lovers facing yet again.

**XxXxXxXx**

Marcello's hand squeezed Lovino's tightly. He knew that the Spaniards were about to make their first goal with the way they were luring near Italian goal. He knew, and yet the sudden wave of anger and sadness that hit him as soon as Silva's goal was confirmed was overwhelming.

"Calmati, idiota. It's only the beginning" Lovino's voice was a mare whisper, his hazel eyes solemnly focused on the ball. Both Veneziano and Seborga, however, heard so much more. Their older brother wasn't losing faith just yet and he was warning them not to give up yet either or else! Feliciano smiled

"Veh~! Forza Italia~! Forza Italia! _Azzurro, il pomeriggio è troppo azzurro e lungo per me, mi accorgo di non avere più risorse senza di te, e allora io quasi quasi prendo il treno, e vengo, vengo da te. Il treno dei desideri nei miei_" Feliciano's melodic voice rang out, his smiling face somehow brightening everyone's mood. Lovino smirked at his younger brothers, Marcello having join in too. Prandelli shook his head, trying to cover the little smile on his face with his hand. The benched players smiled softly as well, trying hard not to join in as the punishment from their coach for that would have been too great.

It was only one goal. No big deal. They haven't lost yet. There was still hope. As long as Azzurri knew it, it would be alright.

**XxXxXxXxX**

"Cazzo" Lovino cursed as Alba made the second goal, Spanish bench cheering. His glare flew towards his lover for a second, Antonio too busy with jumping up and down and yelling happily to notice anything, before Italian's hazel eyes locked with Mario's on the field. The look in his eyes, though angry and annoyed still held fire to it.

"What the hell are you doing, you bastards? Put some heart into it, dammit!" he yelled, his voice getting Spain's attention and a smirk from Balotelli.

**XxXxXxXxX**

During the break, Antonio went to see his Italian lover and talk with him, tell him that his team was doing well and maybe tease him slightly for these two goals that la Roja's made. However, he was disappointed to see no one. With annoyance he's realized that Italian brothers all went to their friends.

And so it was the truth. Marcello took advantage of the current score and started sobbing. Katyusha, who couldn't bear to see the poor boy like that, hugged him tightly. At first Seborga's liked it a lot. What could have been better than getting all cozy in huge breasts of a nice, gentle woman like Ukraine. Yes, well. He was getting suffocated by blonde haired beauty's assets. And he didn't like being dead. So he pulled away and sat on the bench, trying to flirt with Belarus instead. After one cold glare from her, he's resigned though and just succumbed to chat with Sealand about how much he sucked.

Feliciano was getting all chatty with Ludwig.

"Ve! We haven't lost yet, so don't stop believing in us, okay, Luddy?" Germany looked down into boy's eyes. They held fire in them, they held faith and trust. It was rare to see him like that. Ludwig smiled and nodded his head lightly.

"Of course"

"Yay, ve! Did you hear that, fratello?"

"Stop talking with the stupid potato bastard, Feli!"

"_Lasciatemi cantare, con la chitarra in mano, lasciatemi cantare, sono un italiano~_"

"Veneziano, stop singing random songs"

"_Buongiorno Italia gli spaghetti al dente, e un partigiano come Presidente~_"

"Marcello!"

"_Con l'autoradio sempre nella mano destra, e un canarino sopra la finestra_"

"WHY DO YOU EVEN KNOW THIS SONG, EYEBROWS BASTARD?"

Italian bench burst into laughter. Azzurri players having heard that felt somehow lighter in their hearts. They would be forgiven. Even if they lost, they would be forgiven. This much Vargas brothers made obvious.

**XxXxXxXx**

Everything went downhill from the beginning of the second half. Was it because Antonio was sulking that his lover was spending time with people that weren't him, was it because la Roja was simply too strong, everything went simply wrong. As soon as Motta got injured and taken off of the field, they were doomed to lose. And they all knew it.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Lovino's cursed under his breath, letting Cassano hug him lightly. "Shit, fucking Antonio! I'm going to kill him!"

"Fratello, it's okay. We'll… we'll win, somehow" however Feliciano's expression didn't match his words at all. Small tear made its way down middle Vargas' cheek, his eyes blinking rapidly to stop more tears from flowing out.

"We won't. But they… did their best" Marcello mumbled, trying his best not to look sad. Apparently he's failed, as Lovino stood up and situated himself between his two younger brothers, each of his hands patting their hair.

"Even if we lose, fucking dammit I swear I'll kill the bastard, we're gonna send them off with a smile, dammit. You got it? No tears or else I'm gonna punch you"

"Sì, fratello" Cassano smiled lightly at the scene. He's always found the southern part of his country rather grumpy, but nice, and he's always knew that the kid was hiding something. In reality, he was just a big softie that couldn't stand to see his brothers' tears or look weak in front of his national team. Truly amazing. The nations, that is. Especially the ones that had younger siblings. Truly amazing.

**XxXxXxXxX**

When Torres scored, Lovino was beyond annoyed. However when four fucking minutes later a fucking little Mata – who the hell was that anyway? – scored the 4th goal for Spain, he was furious. It wasn't about winning or losing anymore. It was about Antonio being a fucking ass, taking advantage of the fact that there were only 10 of Italian players on the field. It was Antonio being a stupid idiot, going all fucking conquistador on him. _It was Antonio being jealous_. Fucking bastard. If he thought that Lovino would be all nice to him after the game, clinging to him, praising him for an amazing game and going to bed with him, oh he was so wrong. Stupid idiot was not getting any for at least two months. No. Way.

When the final whistle blew, it was the end. Spain had won 4:0 against Italy. It was such a humiliating experience, losing so much and so critically. The Spaniards were jumping, hugging each other, yelling happily, smiling. Lovino bit his lip as he heard Feliciano's heart wrenching sob. Northern Italian hugged Seborga tightly, sobbing into younger boy's hair. Romano couldn't see the youngest' face, however he was sure it was filled with pain too. What hurt Lovino even more, though, was seeing his players like that.

Balotelli looked absolutely devastated, tears running down his face. Not so far away from him Pirlo, the guy who was always composed, was crying too. Buffon looked down as well.

"Cazzo!" he cursed, running on the field. The players looked at him with surprise, their eyes shiny from the tears. He stood in front of them, his hazel eyes steady. He had to be strong. At least for now. For them. "Hai fatto bene, Azzurri. Io sono orgoglioso di te. Grazie" his words struck the team like a lightening. Mario got even more teary eyed before he hugged Lovino tightly.

"Grazie anche a te. Perdonami. We've lost"

"It's okay. We'll win next time. Do you fucking get it? We will win next time"

"Italia… I love you a lot. I'd marry you if you weren't my country and if I hadn't had a wife already, whom I love dearly by the way" Cassano joked, throwing his arm around Romano's shoulder.

"That's gross" Lovino commented, earning light chuckles from the team. Pirlo smiled. This year's Azzurri was great. And somehow, Southern part of their country grew closer to him. That's great. That's… that's great.

**XxXxXxXxX**

After the ending ceremony, the countries gathered together to discuss the match and their plans for the future. Everyone was silent, observing quietly the scene before their eyes. Lovino was glaring at his Spanish lover, who looked absolutely miserable.

"You hugged them again! They even confessed to you, mi amor, and you didn't care! It's not like you not to care when someone confesses to you! Don't you love me anymo-"

"Oh, stai zitto, bastardo. Ti ucciderò"

"¿Qué? ¡Por qué?"

"Because I can. I'll start with your players though. Torres should be an easy target for Romario. They'll dispose of the body fast too. Mata or whatever, pff. Vodka bastard said he'd love to become one with him so long as I go drinking with him. Alba and Silva? I don't really care? And you? Sex. _Sospeso_" Francis wasn't sure whether to laugh or be scared and sad for his friend.

"Wh- nooo! Loviii! Te amo! No se puede!"

"Ooh, I think I can" Italian boy laughed darkly, turning away from his Spanish lover. The temperature seemed to drop. Feliciano, who decided to be obvious for now, took Germany's hand and planted a small kiss on German's cheek. Before Lovino could make a comment about that, however, he was stopped by a light tap on the shoulder.

"You, ahem. You can sit next to me during the Olympics if you want. Not doing it for you or anything. Just saying that, if you'd like to, you could sit next to me. We could go see some movies too or whatever" Arthur muttered looking utterly embarrassed. Antonio stopped his mopping, glaring at the Englishman.

"No way! Lovi, say no! Eyebrows is trying to manipulate you! Lovi!" however, much to everyone's surprise, and in Spain and France's case horror, Lovino smiled sweetly – since when did that kid smile so sweetly! Francis mused to himself – and nodded.

"I'd love to, grazie, eyebrows bastard"

"Ooh, and then we can go drinking, da~?"

"The film should be about vampires"

"So annoying. It should obviously be trolls"

"If брат is going, so am I"

"I want to come too, Italya"

"What the bloody hell, I just invited Lovino!"

"Awww, I want to come too though! Don't be so mean, Arthur! Fratello, can I come?"

"I'm going too!"

"Wahahaha, jerk England, I'm coming too!"

"You're not even a nation!" Antonio watched, horrified, as his love left with the people he couldn't stand. England, Russia, Turkey, accompanied by Norway, Romania, Belarus, Seborga, Sealand and Veneziano.

"THE AWESOME ME IS SO COMING TOO!" and Prussia. Spain turned to France, ready to cry again. Francis just shook his head a no, not wanting to hear it again.

"Francia! Lovi doesn't love me anymore!" before Francis could say anything, Lovino suddenly returned to the room and grabbed Spain by his shirt, quickly crushing his lips against older boy's. Hungary squealed in delight, taking a picture with her phone.

"That" he panted, obviously meaning the kiss "Was 'cause Casillas is a good man and he said he respects Italy" Antonio, who suddenly looked happy again, hugged Romano, hoping that maybe the younger boy doesn't hate him, no, that he still loves him and that they will actually make babies and- oh Dios, what was that pain?

"Ay!" Spain whined, bending down, his stomach hurting like hell.

"And that was for the whole fucking rest" Lovino's evil grin – which was sexy but hey, Spain, focus, your boyfriend was threatening you! … still, it was sexy and if you asked Antonio, he could have Lovino right now on this table and- "Die, motherfucker. You've scored 4 goals, yeah? One month for each goal. Don't talk with me. Die" and with that, Italian boy was off yet again, leaving France and Spain alone. It took a moment for the poor Spaniard to realize what exactly did his lover mean.

"FRANCIA! LOVI JUST BANNED SEX FOR FOUR MONTHS! OH DIOS WHAT NOW, NOOO!" France winced. Now, that was harsh. No sex for four months? Cruel.

**XxXxXxXx**

**OMAKE 1**

Silva and Torres, who for some reason had been dancing together for an hour now after all the alcohol they've had, were a little bit startled by the sound of the doors opening harshly. Each member of la Roja stopped whatever they've been doing to glance at their nation curiously.

"Ah! Hola, España! Back from your cute Italia already?" Torres laughed, his grin fading away as soon as he's noticed the glare that Antonio had been sending his way. "Woah! Why are you mad at me?"

"It's all your fault" Carriedo laughed darkly, holding up his axe. The footballers looked at it with fright in their eyes.

"We have to run" Casillas mumbled, trying not to draw Antonio's attention.

"David, Jordi, Fernando, Juan, _mis queridos amigos_. Come"

"¡Mierda! Don't tell me he's banned sex for each goal! Man, that would be ha-aah!" Ramos yelled, quickly fleeing from the sofa, which was nearly ripped in two by Antonio's dreadful axe. "I was right?" Spain's head instantly snapped towards the guilty four.

"There's one option left. La Roja, _huye_!" and with that, the mad chase between the footballers and their country had begun. In the end the players were just injured, but Antonio's decided to spare them, more or less thanks to France who was woken up by all the ruckus caused by them.

Lovino, who had heard about that, was very amused, however he's went through his promise of no sex for four months. What to say. Antonio felt very miserable.

**XxXxXxXxX**

**OMAKE 2**

_**5 months after Euro 2012**_

Mariano Rajoy has had enough. He asked his nation to come over to discuss some important matters and after that was done, he was hoping for some time alone. But of course, with Spain as his country, he could never get that.

"And Lovi's just the cutest ever when he wakes up~" fifty-seven year old man sighed, adjusting his glasses once again.

"Bueno, but España, what exactly-"

"Y, y, señor Rajoy you won't believe it~! He had said yeees! At first he was being really grumpy about it, but he said si anyway and we kissed passionately and then we made some pasta and then we made love for two hours and swore our love to each other and I think Lovi's been kind of different lately and I think it might be because he is pregnant and if that's so then Carmen and Rosa will born in nine months and I'll be a daddy and-"

"_Will somebody help me_" Rajoy thought to himself, desperately clinging to the thought that maybe, perhaps, after three hours someone will remember that he is needed somewhere else.

**FIN.**

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

**Translations **

Petit Italie – Fr. 'little Italy'

Psicópata – Sp. 'psychopath'

Du calme – Fr. 'Calm down'

Qué? – Sp. "What?"

Lo siento - Sp. "I'm sorry"

Pequeño tomate – Sp 'Small tomato'

Mignon amant – Fr. 'Cute lover'

Qué tal si-! No! Loviii! Cómo pudiste? – Sp. 'What if-! No! Loviii! Hcould you?'

Calmati – It. 'Calm down'

Farza Italia – It. 'Go Italy!'

Cazzo – It. 'Fuck'

Hai fatto bene, Azzurri. Io sono orgoglioso di te. Grazie – It. 'You've done well, Azzurri. I am proud of yo. Thank you'

Grazie anche a te. Perdonami. – It. 'Thank you, too. I'm sorry'

Ti ucciderò – It. 'I'll kill you'

¿Qué? ¡Por qué? - Sp. 'What? Why?'

Sospeso – It 'Suspended'

No se puede! – Sp. 'You can't!'

Брат – [brat], Belarusian 'brother'

Italya – Turk. 'Italy' (in case you wondered who's said that xD)

Mis queridos amigos. Come – Sp. 'my dear friends'

"¡Mierda! – Sp. 'Shit!/Fuck!'

Huye – Sp. 'Flee'

**Information**

**Russian-Italian friendship** – Italy's always had a good relationship with Russia, even when Russia was actually Soviet Union and they were enemies, their relationship was still good. In 2006, Russia and Italy have signed a protocol of cooperation for fighting crime and defending civil liberties. Italy is Russia's second most important commercial partner in the EU. Russian has is imported to Italy.

**Anglo-Italian friendship** - Italy and the UK concluded the London Pact and formally allied on 26 April 1915. Between 4 and 5 million British tourists visit Italy every year, while 1 million Italian tourists visit the UK. There are about 19,000 British nationals living in Italy, and 200,000 Italians living in the UK.

**Emma Maes** – Belgium

**Katyusha Braginskaya** - Ukraine

**Wang Mei** - Taiwan

**Michelle Fournier** – Seychelles

**Emilie Bonnefoy** – Monaco

**Lars Jensen** – Netherlands

**Lukas Bondevik** – Norway

**Dimitrie Lebedev** - Romania

**José** – Mexico (can't decide on his first or last name so I went with the obvious =w=")

"_**Azzurro, il pomeriggio è troppo azzurro e lungo per me, mi accorgo di non avere più risorse senza di te, e allora io quasi quasi prendo il treno, e vengo, vengo da te. Il treno dei desideri nei miei**_" – a part of "Azzurro" by Adriano Celentano, Azzurri were singing that after their win in 2006

"_**Lasciatemi cantare, con la chitarra in mano, lasciatemi cantare, sono un italiano; Buongiorno Italia gli spaghetti al dente, e un partigiano come Presidente; Con l'autoradio sempre nella mano destra, e un canarino sopra la finestra**_" a part of 'L'Italiano' by Toto Cutugno

**Romario** – he was supposed to be a mafia boss xD

* * *

A/N: **Tadaah~. This is the last Euro one, I swear ^.^". I'm working on non-sports USUK fic now. I swear I'll take the American football part out of it! I swear! OTL. So, yeah. This fic, obviously, didn't turn out like I wanted it to. But yeah, well, here it is anyway :p. **_**Grazzie Azurri**_** was born thanks to the awesome plotting between me and **_**SoledaDeMisPesares **_**xD. Right, well, not to bore you anymore. Thank you so much for reading and the support *bows*. Take care ^w^. **


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